


First Death

by Saint



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saint/pseuds/Saint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The things you think as things draw to a close.</p><p>A short little one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Death

You supposed you should count yourself lucky. 

It’s a clean hit, straight to the carotid artery. Could have been the jugular. Embolisms were particularly painful, from what you’ve researched.

Blood bubbles from between your fingers in waves, and you force yourself to calm down. Doesn’t matter at this point, you’re just drawing it out.

You don’t remember seeing yourself bleeding out on your impeccably rad carpet before you’d gone back. Time travel was still new but the significance of this detail isn’t lost on you.

It doesn’t hurt, really. Scraped knees and cut fingertips had more of a sting, and purple-yellow bruises carried more of an ache. It reminds you of the time when you first got your katana and immediately sliced your hand open like a fucking moron. After making sure it wasn’t anything permanent Bro laughed and sewed you up like one of his puppets. You still have the scar.

It was bizarre how hot it was. It was nearly scalding on your bare skin. That can’t be right, can it? It’s only ninety-eight point six degrees, exactly. It shouldn’t feel so hot.

It’s dribbling out onto the carpet at an alarming pace. You’ll be dead in less than two minutes. Your hand slips in the puddle and you fall.

It’s worse than it looks. Your red felt suit is super absorbent and hides the mess quite nicely. The next Dave won’t have to clean up too much. You try to laugh but you can only croak. It comes out strangled and a bead of scarlet runs down your forearm.

Fuck, you’re bleeding all over your god damn turntables. Your priorities are a bit fucked up at the moment but it still pisses you off. You try to scoot away but you’re feeling a little weak at the moment. It’s fine. You still have the captcha code, you can make a new one later. Or Dave will. It’s getting harder to think straight.

You still can’t believe Jade dropped your toilet in your fucking room. This death wasn’t quite as dignified as you had hoped. Jars of dead shit you’d preserved sits on the shelves, and you get a brief image of being one of them, a little Dave curled up in a jar floating in embalming fluid. You try laughing again with predictable results.

You can’t really move anymore. You’re just tired, now. No one bothered to mention how exhausting dying is. Part of you realizes it’s the lack of blood flowing to your brain and the other part of you wonders how the world can get both lighter and darker at the same time.

Into the lava, probably. That’s what you would do.

Quantum invulnerability isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You have to die every time. You briefly wonder where the split between alpha and beta Dave happened, before the thought escapes you. It’s so hard to hold onto these little soap bubbles. They pop each time you try to hold on. What made the other Dave the lucky one? You’re just as much Dave as he is.

The flow’s pretty much stopped by now.

As you gasp for breath your fingers fall from your neck. There’s not much of a point in applying pressure anymore. You kinda miss Bro. Haven’t seen him in a while. Even Cal would be nice.

It was scalding a second ago. Now it just sticks to your skin like the frozen version of napalm.

No one will know. Dave’ll make certain of that. You wouldn’t want anyone to have to deal with it. 

Still.

Dying alone and unknown sucks. 

The last thought you have is one of anger. No, not anger. Frustration? No, that’s not quite right either. Why aren’t you the alpha? Because you tried to fix things? How were you supposed to know? Is death really that arbitrary? 

Fade to black.

The last ounce of strength is spent setting your face behind your shades. You’ve got a reputation to keep, even in death.

The last few drops drip down the lines of your neck. 

Another Dead Doomed Dave added to the pile.

Sucks not to be alpha.

**Author's Note:**

> ...


End file.
